


The Commander's Type

by livsagna



Series: Dr. Corran's Love Center [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Dr. Corran's Love Center, Humor, Rogue Squadron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 10:24:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18029945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livsagna/pseuds/livsagna
Summary: Wedge is feeling a little down because he's realized he'll be alone forever. Corran tries to help.





	The Commander's Type

Wedge was sitting at a secluded table in an out-of-the-way corner of the Flarestar, drinking a glass of Whyren's Reserve that Emtrey had scrounged before his scrounging protocol had been shut down by General Cracken. Life as a rogue Rogue was never boring, per se, but Wedge could admit he did miss the possibility of having an actual life. Of course, leading Rogue Squadron legitimately had also erased any possibility of being normal, but Wedge had just almost had a chance with Iella Wessiri, Corran Horn's former CorSec partner. 

Then Iella's husband had returned from the dead, caused a lot of drama, killed Kirtan Loor, and been actually killed (for real this time!) by his wife. There had also been somewhere in there where Wedge had told Diric he could imagine himself growing old with Iella, and he had admitted this _in front of Iella_ , so things were a little awkward, to say the least. 

A shadow fell over Wedge, causing the stressed man to look up. "Lieutenant Horn," he said as a way of greeting. 

"Not Lieutenant Horn," corrected Corran. He took his fake-glasses-with-nose-and-mustache out of a pocket of his lab coat and slid them on un-smoothly. "Corran. _Dr._ Corran." 

Wedge briefly wondered, 'Where did my life go wrong?' as he covered his eyes with his palm. "Corran, I don't mean this to be rude, but _go away_." 

Corran did not go away, and instead he sat in the booth across from Wedge. "Life got you down, Commander? Or is it _love_?" 

"Lieutenant, I am ordering you to—" 

Corran cut him off. "It is love, isn't it? Well, you've certainly come to the right place! Dr. Corran's Love Corner is an all-purpose—wait, was I supposed to start with that?" He took a moment to consult a script, and Wedge, dumbfounded, said nothing. Corran continued, "Yeah, no. Sorry. Dr. Corran's Love Corner is a _friendly_ , all-purpose, judgement free zone where Dr. Corran—that's me!—will advise you on any and all matters of the heart for the low, low price of a few drinks." 

Wedge fought the urge to roll his eyes. It couldn't be too harmful to indulge Corran, and would provide a nice distraction to boot. He waved a droid over, and the droid took Corran's order. "I don't need any advice," said Wedge, "but it can't hurt to listen." 

Corran smiled, and Wedge suddenly felt that it could hurt to listen. "Good. Now, I'm going to ask you a few questions, and you need to answer them without thinking about it. I need to get to know Wedge's heart, not Wedge's brain. I already know Wedge's brain; it thinks it's reasonable to make us get up at dawn even though we are in space and there is no dawn." 

"I've told you, there's dawn on Yag'Dhul!" Corran gave Wedge a stern look. It didn't exactly give the effect Corran was going for, the fake glasses kind of ruined it, and Wedge's face twitched with the urge to smile. "Okay, ask your questions, Lieutenant." 

"Well, before I do that, I of course need to know who our brave commander has fallen for," insisted Corran. 

" _No_ ," Wedge said firmly. "I'll tell you it's a woman, and that's it." 

Corran's brows furrowed, looking first as if he was about to press Wedge further, and second as if he was then going through every woman Wedge had ever met in an attempt to narrow the list down. "Question one," he started, still trying to discover the identity of Wedge's mystery woman. "If you were to take her on a trip to anywhere in the galaxy, where would it be?" 

"Ideally Corellia," said Wedge, "but the Diktat is an unknown variable and Corellia is pretty closed off at the moment." 

"Question two: If you could describe your relation with this woman as a scent of candle, what scent would you be?" 

"What scent of _candle_?" Wedge shook his head, dumbfounded. He thought of the future, of the home he wanted with Iella. "Nutmeg and leatherwood." 

"Would you want children with this person?" 

"Yes." Wedge found himself surprised by how sure his voice sounded, but he knew he wanted that future with Iella, with the nutmeg-and-leatherwood candles burning in their home, and some mini future-pilots running around getting into just as much trouble as his full-sized pilots did. 

If Corran looked surprised, he didn't show it. "Say she didn't want kids, what then?" 

"I'd make do with all the children in my squadron." Wedge found himself laughing at Corran's offended overreaction. 

" _Okay_ , I see where I stand. Moving on... Do you plan on ever confessing your feelings?" 

"Well, it's complicated," began Wedge. 

"Listen to your heart," reminded Corran. "Ignore the warning bells in your brain for once." 

Wedge sidestepped the question. "I don't think now is the right time." 

"Why?" 

"Well, I don't have a job, I'll probably die within the month... It just wouldn't work out. Maybe if we survive this." 

Corran seemed to accept that answer, and took a moment to think of his next question. "If you were getting her a present, and money and resources weren't an issue, what could you get her?" 

Wedge took a moment to think—he wasn't the best at giving gifts, and didn't know what Iella would like the most—and then he started laughing. "A corusca-stone resin statue of Emperor Palpatine that projects holos of him onto the wall when you shine a laser through the base." It was the best gag-gift Wedge had ever seen, even though it had not originally been made as such, and had just the right amount of ego thrown in—Wedge had helped destroy the Death Star Palpatine was on, after all. 

"If she asked, would you stop flying X-Wings?" 

"She wouldn't ask." Iella had a sense of duty, and Wedge admired that about her. He knew she would never ask him to stop flying X-Wings, because that was his duty to the New Republic and to peace. 

"Do you think your family would have liked her?" 

Wedge almost winced. "Yes," he said. He was sure of it. But still, it would be nice to get Syal's approval in person, if he ever saw his sister again, and if he ever got the nerve to ask Iella out. 

"On a scale of one to ten, how slender is she?" 

"Corran, you're literally the only person in the Galaxy who considers that a factor when deciding if you want to like someone or not." 

"Fine, on a scale of one to ten, how honorable is she? You're into honor, right?" 

Wedge almost rolled his eyes. _Almost_. "Nine and a half? I doubt anyone is a full ten, except maybe Tycho." 

"What would your ideal first date be?" 

"Corran, you're being really cheesy right now." 

"Stop dodging the question, Commander." 

Wedge drummed his fingers on the table as he thought it over. "I'd take her somewhere quiet. Casual. I'd tell Mirax beforehand and have her help me bake a _ryshcate_ , because I never learned how to make one, and it's obviously required. It would be night. We'd be outside, and could see the stars." He grew strangely silent when he was done answering the question, and stared into his nearly-empty drink. 

Corran stood up, and the suddenness of the motion almost startled Wedge. He clapped a hand on his superior's shoulder, and said, "You've got it bad, Wedge. But for what it's worth, I think Iella'd say yes." 

With that, Corran left Wedge to finish his drink and contemplate his feelings in silence once more. 


End file.
